Grandfather
by Bri Nara
Summary: A story about the man who became Clear's beloved grandfather from his point of view. Canonverse. Spoilers.
1. Defective

**Scrap Work Productions**

_After finishing Clear's good route in Re:connect, I ended up thinking too hard about his grandfather. Like, 'what was he expecting when he worked for Toue?' 'What made him want to take this one unit away?' 'What was it like from his POV, because even Clear didn't give Aoba that many details about him?' 'He's a bit like Tae,isn't he?' So this plot bunny grew until I ended up writing this one the night of my birthday of all things. I don't own Dramatical Murder as most of the things are write are platonic._

* * *

He had worked in those labs a very long while.

He could still remember the intial reason why he ever began to work for Toue's research in the first place. When they had proposed to him the idea of creating a robot nearly identical to a human being, he had haughtily said it was too easy. When they had further explained that they planned to create robots that could change people's hearts with merely a song, he was up to the challenge. He wanted to hear how 'grand' this music would be.

Years and decades passed by and he was still there. As far as he knew, there was only one researcher who was ever unsatisfied with the work they were doing and left. Her named was Seragaki, if he could recall correctly.

He couldn't exactly remember her clearly; they were in different departments and thus had no need to see each other frequently. The extent of his knowledge about her was that she was unmarried and that she was his senior, working for the company even longer than he had. He had admired the work she had done, telling her that it was thanks to her that they were able to move forward at all.

So he was thoroughly confused to hear that she had left. The last time he saw her, she had a haggard look to her face. When he asked how the experiment in department had turned out, she waved him off. He was informed afterward that Sei's brother didn't survive but didn't realize at the time how personally Seragaki took it.

* * *

It was years later that his department at last had physical proof of their labor. Beautiful white-haired beings all stood in lines. All of them had their eyes closed, they nearly looked asleep. Each of them could sing. Granted, the jarring melody was not he exactly had in mind, but he still felt great pride in having a part in their creation.

That day, they were to test the individual units. They went down the line one by one, testing to see how they sounded, how they behaved, how they thought. So far, all of them had been identical in every way. Honestly, he was bored by now.

"Which unit is this?" he asked to mark it down.

His comrade stood behind the unit and checked the serial number. "R-2E-054."

He let out an uninterested "huh" and wrote it down. He kept the pen hovering over the clipboard, prepared to mark down another of these robots as 'perfect'. While his comrades were turning it on, he dully noted that this particular unit had two moles on its chin, unlike the others.

Its eyes slowly opened. It blinked a few times before focusing their attention on him. He almost thought he imagined it, but a small smile appeared on its face.

Strange.

"We're going to ask you a few questions now. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

He began asking it the basic questions that they had asked each of the units before it. However, this unit hesitated. It had to think for a moment before answering some questions whose answer would be common sense to most. He thought the answers rather innocent and childish at most. He could see his comrades' glance at each other in concern.

"I'm going to ask you to do one more thing for us, alright?" he told it.

"Yes," it answered.

"We want you to sing for us."

"Yes."

It stretched out its arms a bit and opened its mouth.

The melody that come out was the most beautiful sound he had heard all day.

No, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his _life_.

It sounded light and soft. Like the song itself were merely drifting around in the air like a jellyfish drifts in the ocean. After hearing nothing but the harsh harmonies of the other units, this song made him feel more at ease. He was sure that he would end up drifting away. Because if their goal was to make a being with a voice who could move people's hearts, they succeeded.

Suddenly, the song was cut short. He stared in near-horror as his comrades deactivated the unit and opened up its hidden control panel.

"What the hell was that?"

"That wasn't even the correct song! What happened?"

"Look at this! The brain circuits are all off!"

"More like completely wrong."

"Oy," one of them said to him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Mark this one down as defective."

**Let me just say that this fic is all just one big headcanon.**

**Review, please!**


	2. Rescue

_Okay! Time for the next chapter of this headcanon! _

* * *

Defective?

How could they call that beautiful song a defect? An error?

He felt his chest tighten as they dragged the unit away from its brethren. What a waste for something so beautiful to be labelled an error.

"We're going to have to dispose of it," one of his comrades said.

"Who's going to do it?" another asked.

He felt the others would do it crudely. Without any difference from the other defects. Without so much as remembering the song it sang.

He sighed. "I'll do it."

He was told the instructions on how to dispose of it. They had even given him a bag so that he wouldn't be awkwardly wandering around with what looked like a corpse. He solemnly took the bag and started walking downstairs, toward the incinerator to destroy the 'defective' unit.

"It's light," he noted. Although it was taller than him by quite a few inches, it was still light enough for him to drag along.

When he reached the room with the incinerator, he took a look around. The room didn't have any people in it. Lining the walls were rows of gas masks, so one would not have to breathe in the fumes the device released. The chute to the incinerator was just wide enough for a grown man to fit inside.

"I'm sorry," he said to the immobile unit in the bag. He reached up to open the chute, his grip on the bag slipping. He flinched as it crashed to the ground. The opening of the bag was open and the face of the unit was exposed.

Its face looked so young. Without the harsh, blank stares the other units had. It almost looked like it was sleeping. Its delicate face without a mark sans the two little moles on its chin. Its white hair was splayed about its head like a crown. Such an innocent sight.

He dropped down to his knees and reached out to the unit.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't _possibly_ do it.

He couldn't... _destroy_ this innocent being merely for being different.

He had to get it out.

He had to hide it.

He had to _save_ it.

He swallowed, finding his resolve. The first step was to make sure nobody would recognize it.

With shaking hands, he reached up to one of the gas masks hanging on the wall. He placed the mask onto its face and tightened the straps. He wrapped the bag back around it and picked it back up.

But not to put it in the incinerator.

He made he way out of the enormous tower. Whenever he heard footsteps, he would nearly bolt the other way. It took what felt like an eternity, but he finally reached one of the elevators.

He let out a sigh of relief as he watched the numbers go down. However, that relief was soon replaced with panic when the elevator stopped. A researcher from another department stepped him, giving him a friendly smile. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he prayed the other wouldn't question what was in the bag. The moment the elevator stopped, he heaved it back into his arms.

"Um, do you need help with that, sir?" the other researcher, a man much younger than him, questioned.

"Ah! No no! I've got it! Thank you for the offer though!" he answered back to him. He resisted the urge to start running.

He went back to his home in Aqua Forest as quickly as he could. He wrenched the door to his apartment open and dropped the unit onto the couch. He shut the door and slid door to the ground against it. His breath came out in great heaves.

"My god..." he said quietly to himself. "My god, I can't believe I just did that! My teammates would be furious if they found out! _Mister Toue_ would be furious if he found out!"

He looked over to the couch. The bag had slid down over the unit's head again. A shock of white hair and the back of the unit's neck were visible.

"Well... I've already gone this far," he reasoned. "Why not further?"

He went upstairs to get a few tools of his.

**Okay, this took longer than I thought it would. Anyways.**

**Review, please!**


	3. Sir

_I'm sorry for how long this took; I just started college. Anyways! I don't own Dramatical Murder, this is all just one big headcanon._

* * *

There was no longer a registration number.

The unit no longer belonged to Toue; it was his.

They were no longer in Platinum Jail.

He had gathered up his most prized possessions and left. He was now in an abandoned little house in the Old Residential District. It was in the north and near the dump, so he was sure that nobody would accidentally come across him here.

Once he was there, the only thing left to do was to remove some of the unit's knowledge about Toue, he wouldn't want it running back to a master who would throw it away, and remove its registration number.

It took many days but he had manually removed it. He slumped against the back of the rickety couch and let out a deep sigh. The unit was laying down on his bed, the back of its neck now free of any signs that he had tampered with it. Its face still covered with the gas mask he had taken.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to remove the sleepiness from them. He hardly rested since he retrieved the unit, trying to erase any signs of its alieness from its appearance. He didn't have the proper equipment, so it took longer than he had expected.

Once he had double checked, triple checked, the unit over one last time, he flopped onto the couch and allowed his eyes to slide shut.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he awoke was a gas mask looming over him.

He jolted awake with a startled cry, causing the mask to flinch away from him. He quickly sat up and turned to see the unit was standing beside the couch.

It stood still and lifeless, like a statue. Its arms hanging by its sides and its back was straight. The gas mask was covering up what he presumed was a blank stare.

"Y... You're up?" he manged to stammer out.

It nodded at him. "Yes."

He tilted his head a bit. "By yourself?"

"Yes." Before he could ask it how, the unit asked, "Am I not supposed to be awake now, Master?"

He waved it off. "No, no, that's not it. I was just going to wake you up after my nap is all..." It dawned upon him what the unit had said. "D-Did you just call me 'Master?'"

It nodded again. "Yes, Master."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he erased too much. He could always fix that later. "I'm not your master. Don't call me that."

Once again, it nodded. "Yes, sir."

He figured that would be enough for now. He hadn't really thought through how he wanted the unit to address him; he just knew he couldn't have it calling him 'Master.'

"May I ask a question, sir?" The robot's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ah, yes, of course. What is it?"

It pointed to its face. "What is this?"

"That's... That's a mask," he answered.

"What is it used for?" it asked.

This took him by surprise and his eyebrows went up. "It's meant to cover your face. Keep it on."

After a pause, it nodded. "...Yes, sir."

"Now, may I ask you a question?" he asked it.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Can you sing for me?" he asked it.

"Yes, sir." Behind the gas mask he heard the unit take a deep breath.

The wordless melody filled the air. It was gentle, soft, and light. A smile unconsciously stretched upon his face as it entered his ears. This was why he rescued this robot amongst the dozens similar to it. He had to save this beauty he had helped create.

When it had stopped singing, the unit had asked him, "Why are you smiling?"

"Because I like your singing," he answered softly.

"Is that so... Should I sing for you again then, sir?"

"Of course."

He leaned back and shut his eyes. A contented sigh escaping him as the beautiful song drifted in the air once more.

**Welp! There you go!**

**Review, please!**


	4. Company

_I really enjoy writing things that are mostly about character development. I don't own Dramatical Murder, otherwise Clear's grandfather would've at least been given a name._

* * *

After a week, the reality had finally hit him.

It had hit him when he had to go out and buy food for the first time since rescuing his little robot.

He grabbed the doorknob and called over his shoulder, "I'm going out!"

Almost instantly, the robot had appeared beside him. "Where are you going?"

"To the store..." he answered hesitantly. In all honesty, the flat tone of its voice took getting used to.

"Should I stay here?"

His eyebrows went up. _Should_ it go with him? He looked over its stiff posture and the ill-fitting, hand-me-down clothes he had given it. He could see his surprised reflection in the lens of the gas mask.

No, it would stand out far too much. The point of hiding it would be ruined.

"Yes. Stay here. I don't want you wandering around outside. Are we clear?"

It nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I'm off then." He opened the door, and took a few steps unit hadn't said a word, it merely stared after him.

He vaguely felt annoyance. Wasn't it going to say anything? Not even a goodbye or anything?

"Can you come here for a second?" he asked it.

"You told me to stay here," it answered.

He nearly groaned. "I didn't mean it that literally. Just stay inside the house." He, instead, approached it. "When someone goes out of the house, you're supposed to say 'take care.'"

"Take care..." it repeated. "Why?"

He tilted his head a bit. "Why what?"

"Why are you supposed to say 'take care'?"

"Hmm..." He took a moment to put together a well-worded answer. "For one thing, it's good manners to. It lets the other person know that you hope that they'll come back safely." He grinned a bit. "You want me to come back, right?" he teased.

It nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Alright, let's try that again then." He took a few steps out the door. "I'm off then!" He turned around and gave the unit a wave, hoping that it would understand that was his cue.

"Take care," it responded.

He smiled at the unit. "See? Now that's more like it."

As he walked off, he pocketed away the other reason why he wanted the reason he wanted the robot to say that.

He would've felt a bit lonely if it didn't.

* * *

"How much is enough for two...?" he wondered to himself as he stared at the produce.

He'd never really lived with someone else before. He had never a significant other to speak of nor any children of his own, so he was a bit clueless as to how to shop for someone who may have had different tastes than him.

He vaguely amused the notion of not feeding the unit briefly, but decided against it during their first meal together. He figured it would be a bit too cruel having it watch him eat without giving it any.

That's when it hit him.

That train of thought was when the reality of his situation hit him.

He tossed aside everything.

The career he had. Any security he had. What few contacts he had in Platinum Jail.

All of it.

He'd spend the rest of his days worrying. Worrying about what he would do from then on. Worrying about whatever punishment he'd get if he were ever caught. About the well-being of the machine he took. Even down to things like how much food he should buy.

He stood there in a daze as all of this crashed down into his mind.

"Um, excuse me? Sir?"

He jumped as he felt someone tap his shoulder. He spun around to see a woman much younger than him staring at him in concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

He forced a smile and nodded. "Ahaha. Yes, yes. I'm fine. I was just thinking about something. Thank you for your concern."

She still looked uncertain, but she left him be.

He sighed, figuring that he should at least get the groceries done before he contemplated these things.

* * *

He sighed as he entered through the doorway.

He was tired from lugging around the multiple bags of groceries for so far, however, it was necessary.

"Take care."

Suddenly the unit was standing before him and taking the groceries from his tired arms. He stood frozen in confusion for a moment before following it into the kitchen.

"What did you just say?" he asked it.

"I said 'take care', sir," it answered. It was smoothly removing the groceries from the bags.

He frowned and tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

"You said you're supposed to say 'take care' this morning," it answered. "Am I using it wrong?"

He sighed. It seemed that he would have to teach his machine some proper manners. Though, it was a bit cute that it was trying. "Yes. You're only supposed to say 'take care' when someone's going out. When they come back you say 'welcome home.'"

"I see..." it said. "Welcome home, then."

He felt his heart warm up a bit when it said that. He hadn't been welcomed home in many many decades.

"Sir?" it asked.

"Could you say that again for me?" he asked. He tried not to be overcome with emotion because of two simple words. "Just this once."

"Of course," it answered. "Welcome home."

He rubbed at his eyes before any tears could form and bowed a bit to the being in the gas mask. "Thank you."

It tilted its head to the side. "Why are you saying 'thank you'?"

He chuckled a bit. "You say 'thank you' when you're grateful for something."

It remained in the same pose, expression unreadable. "What are you grateful for, sir?"

"Your company..." he answered softly.

**Well _someone _had to teach Clear the keigo...**

**Review, please!**


	5. Jellyfish

_*Insert smaller headcanon of Clear's grandfather's parents being marine biologists or something or Clear's grandfather going to the aquarium a lot as a kid*_

_I don't own Dramatical Murder._

* * *

The only sound in the room was the sound of him turning pages.

The unit sat in the couch across from him. Its hands were in its lap and it was kicking its legs.

He noticed that the unit's body language was starting to relax. It was beginning to copy small habits he had. He found it rather helpful to read it now.

He was reading his encyclopedia about jellyfish. It was one of the few possessions he took along with him when he left Platinum Jail. The pages were worn from all the times he had flipped through them since childhood. While he was always gifted with robotics, he found oceanology was a fond hobby of his.

He casually glanced over to the robot to see that it was not-so-subtly trying to see the cover of his book. Its head was tilted and he was almost expecting it for fall flat on its face with how far it was leaning forward.

He let out a small laugh. The robot, upon noticing that he was watching it, immediately snapped up to its former position. This only caused him to laugh harder.

"Is there something you'd like to ask me?" he finally asked once he was finished laughing.

"Yes, sir," it said. He wasn't sure if it was hiding embarrassment, or even if it felt embarrassment. Its voice was as even as ever. "What's that book you're reading?"

"It's a book about jellyfish," he told it.

It leaned forward a bit. "What is a jellyfish?" it asked.

He waved it over. "Come here. I'll show you."

It walked over to the side of the armchair. He held up the book to it and pointed to a picture of a moon jellyfish. "See? This is a jellyfish."

"Ah. I see..."

It could've just been wishful thinking, he almost thought he heard something... something like awe in its voice. He turned to look up at it. This was the closest he had been to the unit since it awoke; he was barely able to make out the eyes behind the gas mask. It most certainly wasn't a blank expression.

"Well, this is just one species of jellyfish," he explained.

"Really?" I turned back to the book.

"Yes. One of the most common ones, actually. This one's often called a moon jelly."

"Is it because it glows?" it inquired.

He tilted his head. "Glows?"

It pointed to the picture. "It's glowing like the moon," it stated.

He waved it off. "No, no, it only looks like it's glowing because of the lighting. Moon jellies let the light shine through them. Like glass." He pointed to another picture, the bell of the jellyfish was nothing but a barely visible line. "If there's no light, you can't see. It's because they're so clear, see?"

It nodded. "Yes, sir." Hesitantly, it added, "May I see the other kinds of jellyfish?"

A wide grin stretched across his face. "Yes! Yes, of course!"

It escalated into him showing the robot a portion of the encyclopedia and rambling on about jellyfish for at least two hours. He was spewing every fact he knew about every species that came into view: 'the bell of the flowerhat jellyfish did this while it swims', 'the Lion's Mane jellyfish is _this_ big', 'this species can live in fresh water', and the like.

The robot occasionally nodded its head in understanding. He wasn't sure if it was registering half of his words, as many of the supposed defects were in its thought processors.

He finally managed to shut himself up and closed the book. He looked to the ground, the broad grin fading into a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... I got a little overzealous."

The unit turned to him, confused. "When do you say 'I'm sorry' again?"

"People say that when they do something wrong," he explained. "An apology."

"I do not understand what you did wrong, sir," it said.

"Well, um..." He glanced up at it for a second before redirecting his eyes to the floor again. "I'm sorry if I bored you. Not many people really take interest in things like jellyfish these days and I haven't had the chance to talk like that in a long time..."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him that he was being ridiculous. The white-haired being would listen to him regardless because it was merely a machine. It had no interests, tastes, or will of its own so there was no way for him to bore it.

Said machine stared at him for a long time before it spoke. "You like jellyfish." This was not a question. "There is no need to apologize because I was the one who asked you to show me."

This surprised him. He had nearly forgotten that it had asked him about the book in the first place.

Before he could say anything more, his growling stomach broke the silence.

"We should start preparing dinner," it said.

"Ah, right!" He pulled himself out of the armchair.

* * *

Individually, neither of them were excellent cooks.

While he was good at controlling the spices and the flavors of the meal, there was a likely chance that a part of it was burnt.

The unit, he found, was programmed with basic knowledge on how to cook. It knew when the meal was done, but the food itself was bland.

Together, however, they were both learning how to make some pretty good meals.

"Wow!" He said after he finished his dinner of corn soup. He had taught the unit the recipe and shown it how to do it a week ago. "This is really good!"

"Thank you." It said with a slight bow. It took up the bowls and went off to go wash them.

He noted the unit's dexterity was getting much better. It was able to eat quickly without having to completely take the mask off. Less things were dropped in the kitchen while it was cooking. However...

There was the telltale clatter of plates in the sink, water sloshing onto the floor, and the unit calling out apologies.

...It was still rather clumsy.

He got up from the table and walked up behind it. "Would you like me to help again?"

It nodded towards him and handed him a cleaned plate for him to dry.

At some point during the process of washing dishes, he started absently humming. The unit nearly stopped what it was doing to stare at him.

"Why are you humming?" it asked.

He shrugged. "No reason in particular. I guess I'm just happy."

"Is that so... It's the song that I sing to you."

"Hm. That's right."

It stared at him for a while longer before it went back to washing the dishes. He could almost see the (not quite metaphorical) gears in its head turning.

"Could you show me more about jellyfish tomorrow, sir?" it asked quietly.

"Eh?"

"I want to know more. Could you show me?" it asked.

He grinned at it and placed a hand on its shoulder. "But of course!"

**Next chapter's going to have my favorite moment in there.**

**Review, please!**


	6. Clear

_I feel like this could've been written better, but here you go!_

* * *

"Hey, Gramps, you need help with that?"

"No, no, I'm fine! Thank you, though!"

It was two weeks after the first time he had fetched groceries. After a mishap while attempting to make pancakes, they were now out of ingredients. He honestly hoped that there wouldn't be another mishap; he felt like he was still recovering from the first shopping trip.

The clerk, a man who seemed barely out of his teens, raised an eyebrow as he looked at the amount of items he had to scan. "Geez, what's all this stuff for, Gramps?" he asked casually. "You stocking up for the winter or something?"

"Eh? No, no!" He waved his hands. "This stuff's for me and... and my boy. I'm teaching him how to cook, you see..."

"Huh." The clerk accepted that answer without a comment and handed him his bags. "Well, good luck with that, Gramps. Come again."

He thanked him for the groceries and went back out to the busy main street of Aoyagi. He huffed in irritation as he felt his bags continuously get bumped into and strained against his fingers. He glanced up at the tops of the buildings where there was no one to crowd him.

Though, since he was going so slow, it gave him quite some time to think.

'His boy'... That's what he called the robot in front of the clerk.

Sure, it was learning to mimick his emotions and mannerisms but was calling it his 'boy' taking it a bit too far? It was much closer to an Allmate with an AI he had helped design rather than a 'boy.'

* * *

"I'm back!"

The unit, for once, was not standing by the door awaiting his return. He was puzzled by this, but even more puzzled that it didn't seem to notice his return. It had sharp hearing, so it should have heard him.

He looked into the living room to see that it was sitting on the couch. The encyclopedia was resting in its lap. He could hear quiet mumbling as if it were reading aloud to itself. Actually, that was exactly what it was doing.

"'Sway'..." it said quietly after a paragraph or two. "Ah, so that's the word for it. Yes, that could work."

"What could work?" he asked.

The unit jumped up from the couch in surprise. He clumsily caught the book before it could reach the ground and hastily placed it on the coffee table. It started bowing and fidgeting.

"I'm sorry, sir! I didn't notice you come in! Um, welcome home!" It straightened its back, though the mask was still directed to the ground. "I'm sorry for touching your book without permission..."

"It's fine." He placed the groceries onto the coffee table. He crossed his arms and smiled. "So, what could work?"

"I can't tell you yet, sir! I'm sorry!"

It was keeping secrets? It was _capable_ of keeping secrets?

"What?" he asked flatly.

"Well, I guess it's alright now... It's pretty much done anyways."

"What is?"

The unit started singing. It was the same beautiful melody but there was more. There were words. _Lyrics_.

He didn't think it could create something.

He just stood there with his jaw gaping open even after the song was finished.

"I... I wrote a song for you," the unit explained. "You like it when I sing and you like jellyfish..."

Its intentions were clear.

"...so I thought you'd like a song about jellyfish."

It was trying to please him. It had no reason to and yet here it was.

"Sir? Are you angry? I'm so-"

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around it. He could feel it stare at him in confusion without even looking at its face. His eyes were growing teary with the realization.

It was developing kindness.

It was growing a _heart_.

"S-Sir?"

"Thank you..." he cried into its shoulder. "Thank you for your song."

The unit gently removed him from its shoulder and stared at his face. It tilted its head in question.

"Why is your face all wet?" it asked innocently.

He laughed. "What these?" He pointed to his tear-stained cheek. "These are tears. You make them when you feel a lot of emotions at once. Like sadness or happiness."

"Oh. Are these sad tears?"

"No, no, my boy, these are happy tears."

_My boy._

"Okay, sir," it said. "I'm glad to hear that. I didn't want to make you sad."

"Actually... don't call me 'sir' anymore," he said.

"What should I call you then?"

_Hey, Gramps._

"Grandpa. I'm your grandfather."

"Grandpa..." it repeated.

"Now that I think about it... You don't have a name yet, do you?"

"No, si- Grandpa."

It just wanted to make him happy.

"Hmm... I should name you then, shouldn't I?"

No ulterior motive. No manipulation. No deceit like it was originally supposed to be programmed with.

"From now on..."

Its intentions were pure, honest, and clear.

"Your name is... Clear."

**I got this done quickly! I hope you enjoy!**

**Review, please!**


	7. Masks

_Nanowrimo is over so now I can get back to fics! Due to (a) very vocal demand, I updated this fic first._

* * *

"Would you like to go for a walk with me?"

"Yes, Grandpa!"

The white-haired man was behind him in an instant. The unit, no, Clear was nearly bouncing up and down on the spot. While the mask was still in place, he was positive that he was beaming.

It would be Clear's first time outside of the house since they arrived from Platinum Jail. While they only lived in a dump, he was sure that Clear would be amazed by everything he'd see.

Clear's head was turning to look at everything about him the whole time. He had to hold his hand to keep him moving at some points. Still, he smiled fondly at the boy.

"Grandpa, what's that?"

"That's a bicycle."

"What is it for?"

"It's to help you go faster."

"Ohhh."

Clear walked up to something sticking out of a pile with a white handle. He gently tugged it out and held it up right before him.

"What's this, Grandpa?"

He examined it closely. Past the dirt and grime on it, he saw that it was a clear, plastic umbrella. He opened it and raised up. He was surprised to see that besides it being dirty, it was otherwise undamaged.

"It's an umbrella," he answered. "A very good umbrella."

"What is it used for?" Clear asked with a tilt of his head.

"It's to protect your head from things that are falling," he replied. He held it up over their heads to show him what he meant. "See?"

"Oh!" Clear held his hands out eagerly. "May I hold it?"

He handed Clear the umbrella. With the white shirt, white boots, and white hair, he found that it oddly suited him. The robot immediately held it over him, leaving himself almost completely uncovered.

"I'm protecting you, Grandpa!" Clear said brightly.

He let out a laugh. "That you are!"

They continued the rest of their walk with the umbrella hanging over them.

* * *

Once they were home, they cleaned off the umbrella. They saw that it was for the most part, unscratched. So, he allowed Clear to keep it once he asked what they were going to do with it.

They were both reading over the encyclopedia when suddenly, he noticed Clear grow quieter than usual. His hands were curled up in his lap and his head was hanging low.

"Clear?" He set the book down and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, um..." Clear looked down to his lap. "Grandpa... I have something to ask you."

"You can ask me anything," he said sincerely. "What is it?"

He lifted up a hand and pointed it to his face. Or rather, his mask. "What is this?" His voice was meek and nervous. "I know I had asked this before but... I wanted to ask again. What is this?"

"It's a mask," he said. He didn't like the serious tone that Clear had. He let his hand fall back to his side. It made him feel guilty for telling him to keep the mask on.

However... it was for his own safety.

"What is it used for?"

"It's meant to hide your face. That's why I tell you to keep it on."

"Why?"

He nearly cringed at that. It was the closest he ever heard to Clear sounding sad. He put a hand on each of his shoulders, making him look up to him. He was close enough to see the faint melancholy in his eyes.

But he couldn't tell Clear about Toue. He couldn't let him be discovered. He couldn't let him go back to that. Not after he had started developing a heart.

He had to tell him something. He didn't want to lie but...

"It's because..." he said quietly. "Your face looks different from everyone else's."

"...It is?" Clear asked him.

"Yes. So... You can't take it off. Not ever."

Clear took in a breath. It was weighted and slow. He almost thought he heard a sniffle, so he immediately pulled Clear close to him in a hug. Clear felt stiff. He didn't make a move to return the gesture, just resting his head against his shoulder.

"Is that why I can't go shopping with you?"

"Yes."

"I see... Grandpa, you know what I look like, right?"

"Yes..." he said hesitantly.

"Could you tell me what I look like?" he asked curiously. "Do I look like you?"

He shook his head. "No. I can't tell you."

"...Okay."

He sounded so defeated.

Clear pulled himself out of the hug and stood up. He walked toward the kitchen without looking back at him.

"I'll just... make dinner," the unit said stiffly.

"Clear, I..."

But Clear had already left the room without looking back at him. He slumped his shoulders and hung his head. He knew that he couldn't tell it- him the truth, but he didn't want Clear to react that badly.

He wished for a day where he and Clear could walk around freely.

No masks, no worrying about Toue, no lying to the only person he had.

But for now, that was the way it had to be.

**God, this was rushed... Oh well.**

**Review, please!**


	8. Joke

_I attempted to take it slow... It gave me writer's block. I know pacing is a thing I need to work on. I'm sorry._

* * *

After he told Clear that his face wasn't normal, the robot fell into a mood of sorts. He didn't have as much bounce in his step. He didn't hum as he did the dishes with him. The air was smothering.

He figured that he had at least one benefit when he was living alone: he didn't have to constantly interact with anyone he'd upset.

"Clear?" he asked.

The boy had froze in the middle of eating, spoon still in his gloved hand. It seemed like he was staring off into space.

"Clear, are you okay?" He shook his shoulder in hopes of getting a response out of him.

Clear twitched and finally set the spoon down. "Yes, Grandpa. I'm fine. I'm sorry for worrying you." He continued eating as if nothing had ever happened.

While this concerned him, he didn't comment on it.

Clear did it again when he asked if he cleaned his plate well this time. He held out his plate with the joking comment of whether it was shiny enough to see his face. Clear nodded and didn't move until he put the plate away.

It was later that he finally realized what Clear was doing. He was examining his reflection, trying to see what was different about his face through the mask.

He, unfortunately, realized this when he went up to Clear's room to call him down for dinner. The robot was staring longingly into a mirror that was left there. His long fingers reaching for the back of the mask.

"Clear!" he called out. He worried that he said it a little too harshly when the hands snapped back to his sides and he quickly turned to look at him. "I mean... Clear, dinner is ready."

"Ah, okay." He briskly walked toward the door, but then stopped. He turned to him and bowed. "I'm sorry." Then he left.

He let out a sigh and walked to the mirror. It was a simple thing, really. Just a tall mirror about the boy's height.

However, he had to stop Clear from wanting to see his face. He could get recognized by Toue and taken away to his doom.

He regretfully threw a cloth over the mirror.

He told Clear to never take that off either.

* * *

He soon figured he went about it the wrong way.

Clear's spirits somehow went lower and he was at loss about what to do about it. He wasn't talking as much.

As he walked through the town, he pondered what to do. He couldn't let Clear expose himself but he couldn't bear to let this go on any longer.

He glanced up to stores before him and stopped. There was a solution right there in one of the shop windows. He let a grin slip onto his face as he walked in.

* * *

"Clear! I'm home!"

The masked man was immediately at the door, poised to take the grocery bags from his tired hands.

"Welcome home."

Clear seemed to paused as he noted all the bags in one hand and his other hand behind his back. He held back a smirk as he saw Clear's spark of curiosity seep into his posture.

"What's behind your back?" Clear asked.

"A surprise," he said simply. He handed Clear the bags, not moving as the robot stared at him. "No peeking."

They both went into the kitchen, him following behind Clear so as not to reveal what was behind him yet. Once Clear was done putting away the food, he waited patiently for instructions.

"Okay, I'm going to show you now," he told him. "Turn around first." As soon as the other turned around, he quickly slipped the 'surprise' on. "Okay, you can look now."

Clear turned around and let out a tiny gasp of surprise. The reflection of the goofy, womanly mask he was wearing was in the lens of the gas mask.

"Grandpa?" he asked.

"Ta-da!" he said brightly. "Now I have a mask too! I'm the same as Clear!"

"Grandpa..." There was a pause before he heard giggles bubble out of the boy. "Hehehe... Grandpa, you look silly."

"Eh?! Really?!" He got closer to his face, tilting in his head. It dawned on him a little too late that Clear couldn't see the ridiculous expression he was making. "How do I look silly, Clear? Like this?"

Now he was laughing. It was a light sound that warmed his heart to hear. "Grandpa! You don't have to do that!" He took a moment to stop laughing and sighed fondly. "You really don't have to do that, Grandpa. You don't need to put a mask on."

"It was a joke," he explained as he pulled the mask off. "To cheer you up."

"Cheer me up?" Clear asked with a tilt of his head.

"Yes." He grinned. "It worked."

**I'm late, I'm sorry.**

**Review, please.**


	9. Blossoms

_Today is Clear's birthday (well, it was when I started writing this chapter), so I'm gonna hurry and write this. I was stuck with writer's block again until I remembered something. I don't own Dramatical Murder. And I don't own Clear because he's everyone's baby._

* * *

The air on the island was steadily growing warmer. The flowers were beginning to bloom once again. Spring had arrived to Midorijima.

He tried to tilt his face toward the warm sunlight as he walked home. He hummed the jellyfish song as he went.

Rather, he tried to as he had to occasionally weave through the people walking the opposite direction. He was seriously considering walking on roofs to travel again faster again.

But if he were to travel via roof, he wouldn't have overheard the chatter of the cherry blossoms coming into bloom soon. The teenagers spoke loudly about their plan to watch them.

He himself could hardly remember the last time he saw the cherry blossoms bloom.

Perhaps he could go watch them with Clear. It would be the boy's first time. They could go late, after everyone else was done watching.

He smiled to himself, earning himself a few confused stares from those around him. He couldn't help it when he imagined how excited Clear would be. He wouldn't likely be bored, since he got excited over the simplest things like jellyfish and the curious mounds of garbage at their dump.

He began to plan out their evening to watch the seasons change.

* * *

Something felt off as he approached the house.

He couldn't but his finger on it. It was something in the air. Something just out of earshot. He didn't know why, but it felt... familiar.

"Clear?" he called out as he knocked on the door. "Clear, is that you?"

The odd feeling went away after he knocked on the door. Not all at once, though. Some of it lingered, bouncing around in his head and giving him the slightest of headaches. He frowned slightly. What was it?

Clear opened the door for him. He was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Grandpa! Welcome home!" Clear chirped.

"I'm back," he answered. "I'm sorry I took so long today. But you know something? I'm going to make it up to you."

Clear tilted his head. "You don't have to do that, but... May I ask what you're going to do?"

He followed the masked man into the house. "I'll let it be a surprise. Besides, it seems that you have something to tell me first."

Clear nodded eagerly. "Was I that obvious?"

"Just a bit."

Clear laughed a bit. He lead him to the couch and motioned for him to sit down. "I found a new song."

He raised an eyebrow at the word 'found' but didn't voice his confusion. "Okay. May I hear it?"

Clear nodded. He stretched out his arms and took a deep breath.

What came out wasn't his usual sweet melody.

It was twisted and warped. A rough melody that rattled around in his head. He couldn't focus on anything else. Clear seemed to be completely unaware of the effects of this song.

The song that he was supposed to be programmed with.

A normal person wouldn't notice. The only reason why he was even aware was because he had worked on the project. He had heard the song before many times with his ears protected. The most that he could do now, though, was stare blankly at Clear while his mind went blank. He couldn't even respond when the song ended.

"Grandpa?" Clear asked when he didn't move. "Grandpa, are you okay?"

He gently shook him by his shoulders. Clear grew increasingly panicked. He called out his name again and again, shaking him more roughly to snap him out of it. He could hear muffled sobs behind the mask. It wasn't until Clear started brokenly singing the Jellyfish Song that he snapped out of it with no memory of what had just occured.

Clear promised to never sing that song again.

They didn't get to see the cherry blossoms that day.

**I finally finished, holy crap. I'm sorry it's short. Just, the writer's block. I had no idea what to write for this chapter until I saw that Clear mentioned he could sing Grand Music/Dye Music too.**

**Review, please!**


	10. Concern

Clear was strangely cautious around him now. Often he would hear the phrase "Grandpa, are you feeling well?" and "I think you should rest a for a bit, you look tired." Clear had started offering to do everything for him; even hold the jellyfish encyclopedia for him when they read it!

He wasn't sure what had happened to cause this change but it proved that Clear could feel concern.

"I'm going out!" he said.

"Wait!" Clear rushed up in front of him. He spread his arms out to block the door.

"What's wrong, Clear?" he asked.

"I don't think you should do the grocery shopping anymore." He sounded earnest. "Please, let me do it instead. You should stay here and rest."

He frowned. "Clear, you know I can't let you do that. You've been acting weird lately, is something wrong?"

Clear bowed his head and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Um... what happened a few days ago... Don't you remember it?"

His frown morphed into a look of confusion. "What happened a few days ago? Didn't we go see the cherry blossoms?"

Clear tilted his head. "What are cherry blossoms?"

"You mean I didn't take you to see them?" Clear shook his head. "But I..."

He tried hard to remember what happened that afternoon. All he drew was a blank after he came home. The harder he thought, the more that his head began to pound. Clear soon lead him to the couch to sit down.

"What did we do that day then?"

Clear shifted uncomfortably. "I... I sang you a song... Then you stopped talking."

His eyes widened. He put a hand to his mouth. "Oh...!"

Clear reached up his hands cautiously. "Grandpa...? Are you alright?"

He shook his head to clear the murky feelings clouding his thoughts. His Clear could sing that song. "Yes. I'm fine, Clear. I'm sorry for worrying you but... Please don't ever sing that song again."

Clear nodded eagerly. "Of course not! I wasn't planning to! Ever again!"

He put his hands on Clear's shoulders. The robot peered at him curiously through the mask.

"Look, it's okay that you make mistakes, Clear," he said gently. "It's what makes you human."

**This is such a short chapter. I'm sorry. I've just had zero energy for a while so writing has been hard. I'll extend this later when I think of something.**

**Review please.**


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